


pendulum

by arainai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainai/pseuds/arainai
Summary: “you go away every now and then. in your head. never saw it before adamant.”lavellan itches inside with a feeling of ill-fitting. you could pass a hand right through him sometimes, he swears it. some half of him belonged behind the veil now and that feeling gets so loud.





	

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr: http://zevran.tumblr.com/post/156238289224  
> thank you ✨

lavellan drifts sometimes.

“we weren’t doing this before that shit went down at the fortress.”

— and the bull’s voice pulls him back from the edge of distraction, off the balcony, back through the doors and into the warmth of the room. he blinks and assesses where he is: at his desk, leaning against the edge, staring off at the mountains. physically present, for the most part.

“i’m sorry. what are you talking about?”

he’s expecting you and me, kadan, we weren’t involved, an echoey clarification, but the iron bull does have a knack for knowing what he needs. it’s usually a straight-talker. it’s usually whatever bull can give him. he says: “have you ever let what happened in the fade go? you know - the unreality. the demons, the spiders, the divine.”

lavellan’s fingertips ache where he grips the edge of the desk. “you said you didn’t see spiders.”

the iron bull shrugs from his place on the bed, elbows pressing against his knees. “no, but you did.” lavellan thinks, distractedly, that their respective beds in skyhold do a good job of keeping up against his size. among other things. he must be used to it, being ill-fitting in a world made for humans that barely accommodates elves and dwarves; he must have adjusted. he was going to ask when bull said, “you with me, kadan?”

“always.”

(lavellan itches inside with that feeling of ill-fitting. you could pass a hand right through him sometimes, he swears it. some half of him belonged behind the veil now and that feeling gets so loud.)

“i mean here. you go away every now and then. in your head. never saw it before adamant.”

if only he could bring himself to push off the desk and fit into the bull’s negative spaces. lavellan would rather play out this conversation without words. his heel slips against the stone floor and he has to adjust the way he’s perched; he folds his arms and looks at the iron bull and hesitates. his throat sticks.

then: “can you make this easy for me?”

of course he can - of course he will. bull is standing before lavellan has the last word out, crossing the length of the room. “you’re real, boss. this is real.” he puts a large hand on lavellan’s waist; the other rests on the side of his throat, thumb pressing against his jaw. “you didn’t leave any of yourself behind in the fade. you came back even if that warden didn’t. you came home.”

lavellan’s eyes slip closed. the bull’s voice thrums through his entire body; he feels it as much as he hears it, and it pulls him all the way home, out of the room and into this moment. this feeling, here. the absolute safety that bull has always given him.

“does this help?”

“mm.”

“humour me: what did i say?”

“i’m real. this is all real. i went into the abyssal rift and i came out again.” his eyes flick open and he tilts his chin up to look at the bull properly. “i came home to you.”

something registered in bull’s expression and then, with a blink, went away. lavellan couldn’t be sure but he thought that bull was compartmentalising that feeling - the idea that home is together - for later, for a better moment. he loved him for that.

“you remember that when you go away,” he says, instead. “that’s how you come back.”

lavellan hooks his fingers in the waist of bull’s pants. the nearest thing to hold onto with minimal effort. the fabric is a distraction, anyway, rubbed between his fingers. he feels better, but not entirely. “i know i’m here,” he murmurs, “but i feel somewhere else.” there’s a question in his statement. some kind of asking. that’s the thing with them: if he doesn’t ask, the bull will ask for him. (and he loves him for that, too.)

“do you want me to make you feel here?”

“make me be here.” beat. “make it hurt.”


End file.
